Hard Days Night (The Firsts Book 8) Read online

  “Fuck!”

  “Let’s get all this gold back to the station. Ah, you know I’m kidding. I’m just yanking your chain because it’s dangling.”

  She glanced at his package, which was very well displayed in the tight latex.

  “Literally. I promise, though, I won’t post it. But I’m not deleting it.”

  Luka threw his bag into the back of Mal’s car. “Fuck. I know what that means. Christmas party.”

  “Buddy, you don’t trust me?”

  “I trust you with my life. But not with my dignity.”

  Nodding, Mal started the car. “Yeah, you’re probably right. That gives you a few months to get something on me, so our blackmail photos will cancel each other out. Think of it as a challenge.”

  “Challenge? Give me three days.”

  “Ha. I’m the original Annie. Sweet, innocent, don’t ask, don’t tell.”

  “My ass you are. We’ll see. So, we gonna visit Berenstein?”

  “Not yet. I want to make sure Cynthia isn’t implicated, and right now, she’s probably nervous. A few days, she’ll calm down, and we hit him. But tonight, I’m going to get that eight plus hours of shut-eye, hell or high-water, you get me?”

  “You need the beauty sleep.”

  Mal threw a candy bar at his head, the only thing she could find that she could hurl without hurting him or her car too much.

  “Bastard. I look okay. But a good eight wouldn’t hurt.”

  Later, the day finished, arriving back in her apartment, Mal smiled ear-to-ear as she put the contents of a canvas bag away. Chocolate chocolate-chip ice cream now waited for her in her freezer, along with her favorite frozen pizza.

  “It’s Mal time,” she whispered, as she disappeared into the bathroom, took a quick shower, tied her hair up into a messy bun, and slipped into an old pair of boxer shorts and a long white tee shirt some guy had left behind last year. It was soft and comfy with a weird graphic of some local band, and had become her favorite shirt. She couldn’t remember the guy, but that wasn’t unusual. The shirt had much longer staying power, as far as she was concerned.

  She only dated every once in a blue moon, and while she liked the guys okay, she wasn’t a commitment sort of gal. They were nice, she had a good time, but that was all. The hardest part, every time, was getting the men to understand that. They were just so clingy! That’s why, lately, she hadn’t been interested in hooking up or even going out for a drink with anyone. Too much trouble.

  But tonight was going to be a good night, because there was nothing she’d rather do than this. Pizza, the best ice cream on the planet, and her favorite movie.

  After slipping oversized socks onto her feet, she prepared the pizza and flipped on her big HD flat screen television she rarely watched. Keying into her cable choices, she pulled up a movie, and sat down as it began to play.

  The smell of melting cheese struck her as the song Moon River played during the opening of a movie she’d loved since she was a little girl. This was her perfect night. Audrey Hepburn, elegantly dressed, strolling down the sidewalk in front of Tiffany’s in New York City.

  “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” Mal said out loud as the title scrolled across the screen. She began to hum Moon River as she hurried into the kitchen to pull the pizza out of the oven, glancing up sharply as her phone buzzed.

  “What now?” she groaned, as she slipped the pizza onto a tray on top of her stove, paused the movie, and grabbed the phone.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hey, girlfriend. Want to join me for some cocktails? I’m heading to the Tall Giraffe for drinks with some of the girls from Legal.”

  Bev. That woman loved to party.

  “Not tonight, Bev. I’ve got hot plans.”

  “Yeah? Spill.”

  “Not now. You have a good time, gotta go. My date’s waiting.”

  “Seriously, who is it? You cannot leave me hanging, especially since you haven’t dated anyone in nearly a year.”

  “You’re so nosy. All right, if you must know, it’s Audrey Hepburn, and she’s impatient, so you have a good time. See ya.”

  Mal pitched her phone onto the counter, sliced the pizza, and with a glass of wine, she carried them into her living room.

  “I’m back,” she said, and touched the play button.

  She hoped like hell Bev wouldn’t blab to anyone that she was sitting home on a Friday night watching a sentimental chick flick from fifty years ago. God, she’d never live it down.

  But she needed this, the escape into a different world, a respite from her own. She loved being a cop, couldn’t think of anything else in the world she’d choose to do, but it was emotionally and spiritually exhausting at times. It seemed like it was always an uphill battle just to find justice anymore, and that for every bad guy she helped put away, three more popped up, worse than the last one.

  That’s why she needed old romantic films, a good wine, and chocolate ice cream sometimes. Just, no one at the station needed to know.

  As George Peppard wandered for the first time through Holly Golightly’s apartment, Mal tucked down into her sofa, a piece of pizza in one hand, her eyes locked on the screen. Broken people finding each other, falling in love, making it work. It was good for Mal to see that it could. In her life, love rarely triumphed, and hope usually died a slow brutal death. But tonight, she was assured a good ending, a great meal, and please, God, that eight hours of sleep.

  Luka pushed all of the right buttons. And still nothing came out of the demon vending machine that he swore had been in the break room since the 1970’s.

  He wanted to get home and see if the guys were hitting The Streets tonight. More than anything right now, he needed to decompress.

  But he had to be careful.

  Lately, he’d been spending too much time alone in the apartment with a bottle of JD. And he knew better than anybody how easy it was for a cop to rely on booze to manage sleep and moods. His brother had been a cop. Now, he was just one more statistic.

  After three attempts, Luka decided he could live without his stale apple pie. Still, he gave the stingy vending machine one last brutal shove before he walked back to his desk and picked up his keys.

  Ten o’clock…way past time to go. In a perfect world he would be home in a big bed with a woman that looked like Angelina Jolie’s Lara Croft wrapped around him.

  But he’d spent the evening carefully scanning through the folder Mal’s little C.I. had given them. Mal was right, it was gold.

  Records of large financial payments received or withdrawn with no documentation followed pages of shipping invoices. Manifests for shipping containers coming into the U.S. recently had been accepted by two of Berenstein’s clients, both of the men on L.A.P.D.’s radar. And most importantly, shipping containers going from local ports to the orient. Drugs, and human trafficking, the greatest contraband currently, were the likely cargo.

  Twelve names listed on one sheet were all solid leads to the illegal activities, listed as contacts, were likely young men who thought they were working their way up in the organization. Potential accomplices and witnesses.

  Aw, fuck, his head hurt. He just needed to get out of here and relax with his buddies, get some social drinking in, and maybe find a pretty lady to spend some quality moments with. Steph was likely through with him, even though she said she’d give him another chance. Truth was, he really didn’t want another one. She was hot, yeah, but she was high maintenance like Mal said, and while he thought she was worth it, he just didn’t have the energy for this job and a woman who needed a lot of attention.

  Locking the folder in his desk drawer, he grabbed his leather jacket that looked a lot like something the Fonz might have worn, and headed out of the building. His bike gleamed in its parking place up close to the front door. This time of night, no one was around much, so he took the liberty of parking in the captain’s spot. Everyone knew he did it, and as long as the captain was gone, no one cared. That bike was the one thing he owned that
he would take with him no matter where he went in the world. Anything else he had was just clutter and junk. As he straddled the bike and put his key into the ignition slot, he paused and thought how that was just kind of sad.

  Shit! Last thing he needed was to get maudlin.

  “Stop overthinking things, asshat. That’s how you get into trouble,” he said out loud, softly, to no one but himself. For a moment, he wanted to go by Mal’s and see what she was doing tonight. Hell, she always set him straight. She was really good for him. Not tonight, though, he knew that all she wanted was to get some sleep.

  And he should, too. But as Luka guided the bike along the smooth pavement and merged into traffic, he headed to The Streets, the most popular nightclub in the area, to see if he could meet up with the guys. And look for his Lara Croft.

  Chapter 2

  “What a load of shit!”

  Mal had been pacing and now dropped into the empty seat in front of the captain’s desk. “I’d like to recover my little murdering skank before I get old! Jinx is fucking evil, Cap, I can’t let him stay on the street.”

  “Sorry, not happening. Not right now, anyway.” Now, Captain Kordalis stood. “Look, you guys did good work. That folder has a lot of excellent intel. The implications are obvious, we know what these invoices and manifests mean. But it’s not evidence. Just because can make informed guesses on the activity doesn’t mean it’s actionable. None of this will hold up in court.”

  Luka stood by the door, his arms folded.

  “Cap, we’re careful, you know that. At least let us use some of this information to threaten Berenstein and keep Jinx out of their pockets.”

  “Don’t. Right now, they don’t know we know about this. Find another way.”

  Mal nodded and looked at Luka. “All right partner. You heard the captain, let’s hit it. Miles to go before we sleep.”

  “I mean it, detective.” The captain stepped in front of Mal as she stood. “Mal, I know you’re passionate about Jinx. He’s a piece of shit and if we’re not careful, he’s just going to disappear. But you’ve brought me some solid information, and this is bigger than Jinx. With this information, we can put a stop to some serious shit. It’s enough to put surveillance on the docks and watch for actual shipments that we can intercept and investigate. Give it time, we’ll get them. Don’t go off half-cocked.”

  “Yeah,” Mal barked out, and shoved Luka out of the small office ahead of her. As they walked past a row of desks, Luka turned to his partner.

  Mal was pissed. He knew she was looking forward to going after Jinx today and threatening Berenstein to stay the fuck away this time.

  “Cap’s right, Mal,” Luka said.

  “Yeah, I know it. But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept that, even though we know Jinx killed two young girls last month, he’ll still walk. Fuck, Luk, I just want to lock that asshole up forever.”

  “Welcome to disappointment row. Me, too. But we’ll get him. Live to fight another day, right?”

  “That’s the problem. Jinx is getting to fight again, and he shouldn’t!”

  “Lunch? My treat. How often does that happen?”

  Mal looked up at Luka, who was only slightly taller than her five foot nine inches. Damn, she loved that handsome dog. He knew her so well, everything that upset her, everything that made her happy, everything that made her laugh. What made her cry. He was the perfect guy for her, except that neither of them had any interest in a sexual relationship. They both knew that this partnership, this friendship, was deeper than any relationship they’d had with another man or woman, and neither of them would risk it for the transitory concept of romantic love.

  “Yeah, not often. In that case, we’re going to Casey’s.”

  Luka grimaced. Not the most expensive place in L.A. but not the cheapest either. That didn’t matter, but they insisted he wear a tie. But she was smiling again.

  “All right, you’re on.”

  Mal yawned. “Shit. It’s just too late. There hasn’t been any movement for hours. Why don’t we call it a night?”

  Luka yawned, too, shadowing Mal’s yawn. “Yeah, there isn’t likely to be anything else tonight. Besides, we’re out of chips and salsa.”

  “Stake-out isn’t for the chips and salsa, buddy.”

  “It’s why I’m here. Anyway, yeah, I agree. We both need to get some rest. I’ll call Geraldo in the morning and let him know how the stake-out went so he can inform the Captain. Wouldn’t want him to think we’re laying down on the job.”

  Mal smiled. Her head hurt, she could use the rest, too. Tomorrow night, they’d be back to do this all over again.

  IN A FANCY OFFICE BUILDING DOWNTOWN L.A.

  “So, you saw someone watching the docks?”

  The big man sneezed and blew his nose into a monogrammed silk handkerchief. “Sorry. Fucking allergies. Anyway, it’s the same cops? That hot girl and the Latino?”

  “Yeah. It’s them. Like freaking dogs with bones! Everywhere I went the past three days, they’re on me like white on rice. I just wanna take the girl and…”

  “Do not touch her. The girl is mine. I had my eye on her before she became a pain in my ass.”

  “Uh, yeah, sir, I just meant, well, that she’s pissing me off. I wasn’t gonna do anything, like, to her.”

  “See that you don’t. Or anyone else who might think to take liberties. First off, she’s a fucking cop and I don’t need complications with the authorities. Secondly, if something needs to be handled, I’ll handle it the way I see fit where it don’t affect the business. You comprehend me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All right, Jinx. Get outta here and just keep me apprised.”

  Jinx left his boss’s office as quickly as he could without seeming like a wuss. Canzone was no one he wanted to piss off or even worry. Mostly, he just wanted to stay off the radar. Canzone was about as big as they got in this city, and he knew he was just a piss-ant to him. Jinx had no desire to be near someone who would stomp him out as soon as look at him.

  But he was Canzone’s second-in-command right now, through the untimely death of Canzone’s former second-in-command. His efforts to appear reliable and efficacious were not meeting with success, so he wanted to get the fuck out of California. Planning to head northeast and get lost in New York or Maine, he needed some seed-money, so he was trying to make it until he could take it. He was screwed if these cops had gotten onto them.

  After he cleared the room, he slammed his fist against the dashboard of his Suburban SUV. He really wanted to take out that bitch cop. She’d been on him for months. Canzone’s attorney had only just sprung him a few days ago and the cop was back on him again.

  “Bitch got a hard-on for me,” Jinx said, as he started the car. “And that ain’t gonna end well, no way. Not unless I get her first.”

  Another morning, another sunrise that interfered with sleep. Mal rolled over and sighed, exhausted beyond her ability to even think straight. She and Luka were spending their nights watching the docks and the recently released asshole Jinx “the fingers” Jones.

  Glancing up at the window in her bedroom, she closed her eyes and slid a hand against her bare skin. Two things she needed right now. A good light-blocking curtain, and a nice orgasm.

  Maybe Bev was right. A week or two away from the job, some one-on-one with a hot guy who would make her feel like a woman again, and an ocean view…yeah, she needed that a lot right now. As soon as they got Jinx, she was going to take off and just let herself breathe again.

  Her fingers found their way between her legs and just lingered. She smiled, thinking that she did have a vibrator somewhere. Probably didn’t even work anymore. When had she given up sex? Finally, she drifted back off to welcome dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 3

  The ocean waves were gentle tonight, the sea calm, providing the perfect backdrop for Ahmose as he stood on the balcony of Windari’s beach house, sipping a local wine that wasn’t anywhere nearly as good as the w
ines back home.

  But it would do. He was on the third glass as he leaned against the railing watching the three-quarters waning moon, strangely elegant in its asymmetrical phase, as it reflected off of the sparkling water. It was something that he rarely got to see. As a child of the moon from southern Africa, his village sat on the edge of the magnificent Victoria Falls, but it was too far from the sea. The view made him feel calm on this first night he’d chosen to take a sabbatical from his village. He needed the rest, the disconnection, the quiet, just for a little while.

  This past year had been crazy. It had seen the arrival of a woman with whom he knew he was destined to love and bring forth the next generation of first blood vampire children to the world. Then, destiny threw him a curve. Yes, the beautiful vampire that came to his village was meant to bear his children, but not to be his lover and mate. That revelation had broken his heart, yet brought a brother into his life that he’d learned to love against all odds.

  His son had been born, a beautiful boy who would champion the Mother Earth someday in the future. It was clear from the beginning that the child was exponentially more powerful than previous generations, and that he was a protector. Ahmose couldn’t love Eras more, the child was his heart and soul.

  So was his lovely mother, the newly-made vampire Starla, mated now to Jacob. Now the three of them, Ahmose, Starla and Jacob, were accepted equally by Eras as parents. It still shocked Ahmose how well it worked. Male vampires were, by their very natures, jealous of another male near their women. But Jacob tolerated Ahmose’s close relationship with his mate that required them to parent together, and although she was inseminated to begin the children, it was still an intimate relationship.

  He was happy. Now, Starla was pregnant with the second of the three children prophesied by an empath who had helped guide them to this future. Another miracle.